You jump up 
to be held,
excited 
now settled.

I worry 
when you get sick.
It’s not like I can ask 
if today is any better.

I take my time 
looking into you.
We can’t hold eye contact.
Don’t have to.

‘It can’t be comfortable’,
I say.
But boney knees 
are rest.

‘What do you want’,
I ask.
Then you turn
and I know it’s ok.